“Kate!” Alan gasps. “You’re not trying tolose weight, are you? You’re beautiful just the way you are.”
I open my mouth to say thank you, but mymother beats me to it. “Kate’s trying to drop a size for her wedding dress.”
This perks Olivia right up. “Weddingdress, what for?”
“Kate’s father and I are throwing Coleand her a wedding in two weeks, in Idaho. We wanted to feel like a part ofKatie and Cole’s big day.” My mom turns to Annie. “That reminds me, Annie, didyou bring the extra invitations?”
Annie pulls an invitation out of herpurse and passes it to Olivia, who begins to open it. I lean over to her.“Um—I’d have another drink or four before you open that.”
Olivia nods and sits it next to her onthe seat. “I’ll wait for Preston to look at it.”
An MC stands up after another Elvis beltsout a tune of the dead king. “Well, it looks like we have a brave soul out inour audience this evening. One who isn’t dressed as our dear departed King ofRock N' Roll.”
Oh boy, I wouldn’t be caught dead upthere. An alley cat can sing better than me. I’m more of a hummer, or tapper.
“Let’s give a round of applause for KatieCook.”
“Huh—that’s funny. That there’s someoneelse here with that name.” I say out loud with a laugh.
Everyone stares at me, and Jill triesreally hard to keep the smile off her face, but doesn’t come close tosucceeding. Suddenly, a spotlight flitters along the floor until it shines atour table.
Holy, mother, I’m going to, how on earth,I—I—I.Ipush the lump that’s formed in my throat down.
“Katie Cook?” The MC chimes at me. “We’rewaiting for you.”
“Jill!” Both Annie and Laura hiss at thesame time. I sit there, dumb struck. Wow, Jill’s hit a new low. There’s no wayI can get up there in front of people, on a stage, and try to sing. I don’tfeel like throttling Jill, thanks to the two shots I drank. That and I remembermy promise to Cole, to keep my emotions in check. I don’t want to go up there.But if I don’t stand up, it could make everyone else at the table look bad. Itcould make Cole look bad. And that’s the last thing I want. I’m not sure what’sworse: backing out or actually singing.
With my heart threatening to breakthrough my ribcage, I stand up. I give a little wave and a weak smile.
“There she is. She just had a bit ofstage fright. Let’s give her a round of applause for being a brave littlemama.” The dinner guests give me a nice round of applause. I wave again. Thespotlight follows me over to the desk next to the stage, but then turns off. Aman in dark seventies glasses who looks a bit like Elvis is sitting behind it.“Hey there, Mama still set to sing Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance?”
“What? NO!” I nearly shout.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. I think maybeyour friend played a cruel joke on you. You can back out.” The man behind thedesk gives me a sympathetic smile.
I glance back at Jill, a smug look on herface. “No, I’ll sing. It’s just—I know I’m not dressed as Elvis, but can I singan Elvis song?”
“Sure, little Mama,” the man in theglasses smiles at me. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”
“Kate?” A man dressed as Elvis comes upnext to me, putting an arm on my shoulder.
“Yes?”
“Katherine Holt?”
“Yeah,that’s me. Do I know you?” Not that I don’t want to know anyone who likes Elvisenough to dress up like him, I do very much so.
“Yeah, you do. I’m the Elvis preacher that married you and Coulter. My name isTed.”
Oh. My. Hell. It’s a sign. “Oh my—hi.” Iwrap my arms around him, giving him a big hug.
“I didn’t know you sang?”
“I don’t.” I say sheepishly. “My cousinplayed a trick on me. But I’m not letting her get the better of me, even if Iam about to look like a complete fool. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t yoube at your Elvis chapel of love, marrying people?”
“Business always seems to die duringElvis week, and I love open mic night.”
“That’s right, you have a great voice.Hey, do you think you can help me?”
